


Wie Du Sagst, Mon Cherie

by Buttsuoka_Rin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Case
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-03-10
Updated: 2012-03-10
Packaged: 2017-11-01 18:00:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,727
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/359685
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Buttsuoka_Rin/pseuds/Buttsuoka_Rin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hold on. Who’s going to be on top?” Lestrade sat up for a second, and tried to establish dominance by once again leaning over Mycroft. “I am a man of power after all.”</p><p>Mycroft needs to unwind after a particularly gruelling case. Luckily, he has a willing Lestrade to help out.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wie Du Sagst, Mon Cherie

**Author's Note:**

> Based on one of my many Mystrade roleplays and written about half a year ago. Just a tad re-edited.  
> Basically this was a side-story as part of my main roleplay. Sherlock had been kidnapped by Moriarty and saved by Sherlock, Lestrade, and of course, John. This was just afterwards back in Lestrade and Mycroft's hotel room.

Clearly shaken after what happened after Sherlock's latest case, Mycroft closed the hotel room door with a sigh and leaned his forehead against it. Along with the dark shadows beneath his eyes, there was also a hint of relief on his face. But he didn’t look as impeccable as he usually did; his suit was askew, hair sticking up ever so slightly and his umbrella-patterned tie pulled loose.

His younger brother would have died if not for John Watson's ever impressive timing and devotion to his boyfriend. To think that Sherlock escaped death so very, very narrowly... Well, Mycroft decided it wasn't worth dwelling on too much. At least not until he had some rest.

“God, Greg. I’m getting too old for this.” The elder Holmes brother peeled away from the door and slumped onto his bed, rubbing his face with dainty hands.

“Nonsense. You were brilliant tonight.” Lestrade took off his jacket and switched on the small cable T.V before settling onto the bed beside Mycroft. “And look at the bright side – Sherlock has John looking after him.”

“True. That doctor really changed my brother in the best of ways. You’re right, I should stop worrying. It’s just… He’s still my little brother. It has always been my responsibility to look after him. I even made a promise to Mummy.” Mycroft heaved a sigh and let his body go slack on the bed.

“I know, Mycroft. You’re a wonderful brother, but you trust John with Sherlock’s life don’t you? He’s saved him more than once.” Mycroft offered Lestrade a smile and kissed his forehead. The DI tried not to sigh because it was always this way; stolen kisses in their offices, sneaky hand holding in Mycroft’s car or little pleasures on the very rare occasion.

Reaching over to his weekend-bag, the DI pulled out a tube of hand cream and began to rub a pea-sized amount onto his calloused hands. Mycroft raised an eyebrow.  
“Hand cream?” He took a little sniff. “Scented hand cream! Gregory, you’re not turning into a woman on me are you?” Lestrade snorted and put the tube away, still rubbing the coconut scented cream into his hands.

“I have delicate skin. My hands go through the wars if they’re not kept moisturized.” He turned to face Mycroft. “Problem dear?”

Mycroft rolled his eyes and prodded Lestrade playfully before switching the T.V channel to a murder-most-foul FBI case. Lestrade groaned and snatched the hotel's television remote out of his partner’s hands. “No. I’ve seen enough murder cases to last me a lifetime. How about something a bit mellower?”

“What, a programme about animal clinics or sunset romances?” Mycroft snorted when the former actually did appear on screen. Not that he really cared what they watched; he was too worn from the night’s events that Barney the bloody dinosaur would cheer him up at the present time.

About fifteen minutes into the programme Lestrade got bored. They had been holding hands on the bed, fingers entwined and giving little squeezes every now and again. Without warning, Lestrade rolled over, took Mycroft’s other hand and pinned the elder Holmes brother to the bed as he straddled him.

“Wha- Well that was unexpected, Gregory. A bit wired tonight are we?” Mycroft looked surprised but smirked anyway. He was answered with a soft kiss, tongues dancing and the DI’s body pushing at dangerous proximity against his own.

“Mycroft…” Lestrade broke the kiss, staring down at Mycroft before pulling back altogether and resuming his previous position. “Sorry, I was a bit hasty.”

“Sorry? Why are you sorry?” Mycroft had now pushed himself onto his elbows to look over at his lover, who seemed to be blushing. It looked rather… handsome on the DI’s cheeks. “I certainly wouldn’t be sorry…” Mycroft leaned over and his hand started to undo the first few buttons of Lestrade’s shirt.

The DI smiled and sat up, undoing the rest of his buttons by himself. Mycroft did the same and soon enough both shirts were tossed somewhere across the room. Mycroft reached out and gave Lestrade a kiss, shifting so he was pushed right next to him.

“Hold on. Who’s going to be on top?” Lestrade sat up for a second, and tried to establish dominance by once again leaning over Mycroft. “I am a man of power after all.”

Mycroft chuckled and his legs moved to wrap around Lestrade’s waist. He had incredible strength despite his age, and within a matter of seconds Lestrade was the one being pinned down. 

“Oh, but not as much as I do, detective inspector.” Smirking, he let his hand trail down the DI’s chest and to his belt. That was swiftly removed, followed by Mycroft’s, and those were kicked off the side of the bed. Mycroft's hand slipped into his partner’s underwear to tease the growing length beneath. Lestrade let out a shuddering breath at the feel of those dainty hands around his cock, applying just the right amount of pressure.

“Oh, god.” Lestrade let his eyes close when Mycroft began to stroke upwards. That proved to be hard the less space there was, so Lestrade’s maroon coloured underwear was quickly yanked off and thrown carelessly to god knows where in the hotel room. Mycroft resumed his stroking, slow and firm around Lestrade’s length.

When Lestrade tipped his head back, Mycroft took that chance to attack his neck. Lestrade let out a deep, relieved moan, shuddering and trying not to arch his back. The elder Holmes brother chuckled into Lestrade’s neck, not letting his strokes speed up even with the DI wriggling under him. His fingers eventually loosened and he let his hand drift away, ghosting up his lover’s chest.

“Well, this isn’t going to go anywhere very quickly. Where did you put that hand cream you had, Gregory? I’ll admit I wasn’t expecting things to take this turn when I came looking for Sherlock, so I haven’t packed anything.”

“On the… The locker.” Lestrade took a breath and reached over. That gave Mycroft enough time to rid himself of underwear and wait patiently for the hand cream. He received it with a wink to Lestrade and squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers. His free hand trailed up Lestrade’s inner thigh, caressing the skin. The hand cream was sort of cold, and so when Mycroft teased the taut ring of muscle with his forefinger, the DI gasped.

Chuckling, Mycroft pressed his finger forward slowly, being encased by glorious tight heat. It was hard to move around, but eventually he found enough space to push slowly in and out. “Goodness Gregory. You’re tighter than I realised.”

“Well what do- Oh! - You expect? I don’t go round... Ngh… shagging every night of the week.”

“I should certainly hope not.” Mycroft snorted and added another finger. This time it made Lestrade gasp again and his back arched up right into his lover. Mycroft set about a rhythm; scissoring, pushing, crooking. It was all making Lestrade moan and groan and writhe under him.

“Gregory, your leg.”

Lestrade took the hint and slung one of his legs over Mycroft’s shoulder. That gave Mycroft the perfect angle to crook his fingers just so until he was practically caressing the older male’s prostate. Lestrade moaned and arched his back up.

“Jesus, Mycroft! Now!”

“Wie du sagst, mon cherie.” Trust a Holmes to start speaking two languages at a time like this. And with impeccable accents too. Mycroft removed his fingers and let Lestrade’s leg fall back to the bed. He took the hand cream and lathered a generous amount onto himself. Spreading the DI’s legs, Mycroft lined his cock up.

He pushed in, letting the heat consume him once more. He closed his eyes and settled into a comfortable position. Lestrade could easily tell the difference between two fingers and what was currently inside him now. He let out a sharp breath and tried to relax his body. But his hips betrayed him and rolled up as Mycroft pulled out. They set about a nice steady pace and with every thrust Mycroft made, the DI would make a new noise. It was like music to Mycroft’s ears.

"Myc..." Lestrade's eyes were closed and his head back. His hands grabbed at the older male's upper arms. Moaning quite loudly, this seemed to spur Mycroft on, and he found his pace increasing from steady to slightly erratic, the sound of skin slapping against skin reverberating about the hotel room.

"Come on, Gregory, open your eyes. I want to see you come apart." How Mycroft was still forming coherent sentences in his current state - perspiring and breathing heavily - was a mystery, but not one Lestrade was in any hurry to question. With great difficulty, he maneged to open his heavy lidded eyes and gaze up at his lover. 

"M-Mycroft!" Lestrade's mouth went slack and he actually gasped at one particularly sharp thrust, which pushed right against his prostate. "Do that ah-again!"

"Of course." Even with his still quite controlled speech, Lestrade could sense the little waver in his voice that meant he was close. Angling his hips in such a way, Mycroft fucked Lestrade for all he was worth, desperate to keep pulling those delicios noises from his lover's mouth. His own thrusts were being punctuated with little breathy moans now.

"M'gonna... Hnng-" Lestrade's fingernails were digging into his older lover's skin, hard enough to leave red crescent-shaped welts. 

With a deep cry of what might have been Mycroft's name, the DI arched up entirely and spilled out, coating their chests in thick and sticky cum. Mycroft dropped his head onto Lestrade's shoulder, breathing deeply as he rode out the feeling of Lestrade's tight walls clamping down around his cock.

It wasn't long before he too climaxed. He came with a deep shudder and a mutter of crude German words tumbling from his lips. Canting his hips back, he pulled out of his lover and collapsed beside him, quickly feeling his muscles going slack.

"...Mycroft..."

"Yes, my dear." Shifting over, Mycroft re-arranged them so that the duvet was pulled over them both. He tucked his legs nicely up between the DI's and leaned up for a slow and lazy kiss. "I love you too."

Overhead, a pair of maroon briefs rotated slowly on the ceiling fan, not to be discovered until well after morning.


End file.
